


being compromised

by novoaa1



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Healthy Relationships, Just a drabble, Kneeling, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov-centric, POV Natasha Romanov, about feelings, and short, bc we love that, healthy communication!, is cute, its cute, they're gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 22:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19094368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novoaa1/pseuds/novoaa1
Summary: Maria likes control.Natasha likes that Maria likes control.They talk about it.





	being compromised

**Author's Note:**

> suuuper random thing that just sorta came to me and uh well
> 
> here it is:)

Maria Hill liked control. It was something Natasha had noticed about her from the very start—less of a revelation, and more just an objective fact of who she was, of what made Maria _Maria_.

 

And as always, Natasha knew how to handle that—knew how to handle _her_.

 

At least… until things changed. Until it got _personal_. Until Natasha got compromised for her. Badly. 

 

For example: Natasha never liked getting on her knees, not for a man, not for a woman, not for anyone.

 

She did it regularly, of course (more times than she can reasonably count), for missions and information and manipulation in which seduction was the most prudent (and least bloody) way she could conceivably obtain what she was after. 

 

So it wasn’t something she liked, per se, but regardless, it was something she did often—like routine, almost, because there were a hell of a lot of people in the world who roused at seeing a pretty young thing kneeling demurely at their feet. 

 

But getting on her knees for Maria was like… like a shelter, in some way, like a sort of gentle serenity she hadn’t known she’d been missing, like something that gunshots and corpses and the screams of the long-dead ghosts in her past could never touch. 

 

It almost seemed to complete her in a kind of way, even as she knew it was foolish to place such a multitude of meaning in an act of submission that was, by all accounts, rather plain in nature. 

 

And still, she adored it. More than her own pleasure, more than the feel of Maria’s mouth upon hers, more than any kind of euphoria she’d ever felt in this life.

 

Maria liked it, too (Natasha most certainly wouldn’t indulge this compulsion of hers so readily if Maria didn’t like it just as much, if not more so than she herself did), her breath hitching in her throat as Natasha sunk deftly down to her knees, pupils blown wide with desire at every worshipful kiss planted delicately upon achingly sensitive heated flesh. 

 

With how often she did it, it wasn’t a surprise that Maria brought it up eventually—still, that didn’t make it any easier for Natasha, because she’d never done… _that_. She’d never done feelings, or truth, or raw, open, honest communication with someone whom she genuinely cared for. 

 

But she felt it coming, knew Maria’s tells, and when she said, “Hey, Nat?” in _that_ tone of voice, Natasha knew exactly what was drawing near. 

 

Forcing herself not to get defensive was difficult, but she did it—setting aside her book upon the coffee table (they were in Maria’s apartment), legs tucked comfortably under herself on the plush couch and tilting her head curiously at the woman, who was eyeing her with a thoughtful blue-eyed gaze, clearly debating how best to go about broaching the topic.

 

After a long moment of silence, Natasha spoke: “Ask me.”

 

Maria’s lips twitched, though she didn’t seem surprised by Natasha’s seamless ability to read her in any setting—she never was. “You like kneeling. For me.”

 

“That’s not a question.”

 

“Natasha,” she admonished, her tone stern and resolute—another show of esteem that Natasha reveled in; and what’s more, Maria knew it. 

 

“I do,” Natasha conceded, forcing her breaths to remain steady and even, her posture calm and non-threatening. 

 

Maria raised a brow. “Why?”

 

Natasha shrugged, though she allowed a slight rosy blush to tinge her pale cheeks—a rare show of trust, of vulnerability in the dimly-lit apartment space. “I like the feeling of belonging to someone else. To you.”

 

Maria nodded. “And you don’t kneel purely because you know I enjoy it?” She kept her tone even, controlled—it sent charges of electricity running all throughout Natasha’s body.

 

“I like pleasing you.”

 

“That’s not what I asked.”

 

Natasha resisted the sudden urge to squirm under Maria’s unrelenting gaze—her training ensured she’d never display such a blatant tell, but the urge was there just the same; it was… unsettling—though, unsettling in a way Natasha didn’t quite mind. Not with Maria. 

 

“I do it because you like it,” she uttered slowly, ignoring Maria’s sharp intake of breath in response as she continued, “and because I like how it makes me feel.”

 

Maria’s gaze softened at that, blue eyes filled with a gentle sort of affection that threatened to swallow Natasha whole. “Okay.”

 

Natasha furrowed a brow. “You’re not going to ask me if I’m lying?”

 

“Do you want me to ask you if you’re lying?” Maria questioned, not missing a single beat. 

 

“I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

 

“I know,” Maria intoned. “But I’m not going to.”

 

Natasha bit her lip, an inexplicable warmth blooming in her chest at the conviction in Maria’s eyes, at the faith she held at every turn for Natasha, a masterfully-deceptive weapon that knew all too well it'd never deserved that kind of benevolence to begin with. 

 

“Okay.” She paused, allowing Maria to see the internal conflict on her features before asking quietly: “Can we go to bed?”

 

Instantly, Maria’s lips curved into that gentle smile that never failed to bestow a feeling of such _security_ upon Natasha (even when she knew damn well that such a thing didn’t exist in this world, not for her), her cerulean eyes twinkling with the kind of endearing ardor Natasha knew she’d been compromised for since the very start. 

 

“Of course, Tash."

 

— —

**Author's Note:**

> would love to know your thoughts!!
> 
> also here’s the link to my 


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